


I Don't Know Finnish; Why Am I Playing Finnish Heavy Metal in My Own Car?

by TheCommonwealth



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ABO dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omegaverse, Slow Build, alpha/beta/omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 18:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCommonwealth/pseuds/TheCommonwealth
Summary: The worst thing about arranged marriages? No person comes without a past.





	1. Chapter 1

Peeling back the top of the cigarette carton, Berwald pulls out a much-needed reward for dealing with the nightmare of the dinner rush tonight. He fishes out his favorite lighter from his jacket’s pocket and quickly flicks his finger over the tab to light it. The cigarette rests between his teeth as he checks his phone. 

_ Berwald, your father and I would like you to come here after work. xX _

Berwald nods, as if his mother could see. The phone vibrates, alerting him of a new message. 

_ Hello Berwald. We have a special guest tonight, please come over.  _

Berwald quickly texts them back a response, and then finishes off his cigarette in peace before going back inside.  _ Just another hour.  _

The next hour consisted of cleaning up the wreck that dealing with a rush of customers caused. Luckily for Berwald, both the Italian brothers were working tonight and could take care of the dishes for him. Even if he did have the suspicion that their banter in their native language consisted of talking badly about their coworkers, it was still appreciated to have two pairs of working hands in the place. Antonio, his Spanish coworker took care of the tables and cleaning out the machines. Tonight, Berwald was only responsible for cleaning the floors and counting the money.

Once all four of the employees were out of the building, Berwald fishes out the key to the building and locks it. The group collectively breathes a sigh of relief that the day is over, and are able to go be free from the confinements of boring ol’  _ work.  _ Antonio puts his arm around one of the Italian brothers, pressing a kiss against his temple before earning himself a harsh shove from the now blushing boy. 

“Good night, wasn’t it, boys?” Antonio raises his head up in the arm, weaseling his fingers into the restraints of his slacks. 

The other three did not have the energy to respond with much more than nods. 

“Alright, well, see you Monday, you two. Lovino, let’s go home to cuddle,” Antonio offers one of his hands, to which Lovino rejects and strides over to the car. The other Italian, Feliciano, flees over to a car with a blond man in the driver’s seat. The car’s lights turn on, and within seconds, Berwald finds that he is the only one in the parking lot now.

He turns on his car, only to be greeted with an odd noise that he’d have to check out later. Tomorrow, maybe. After all, that  _ is  _ his day off. But now, he may not have his perfect introvert’s retreat if his parents’ special guest is really  _ that  _ special. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, he turns on the radio. Heavy metal blasts in the car, and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm the loud, banging drums set proudly. All the songs seemed to blend together into one proud anthem until he found himself at his parents’ home.

The traditional Swedish house sat on the edge of the property, greeting people warmly with its barn-like appearance. The trees barely hid the house from the world’s view. Many acres behind it were considered part of the Oxenstierna-Køhler property, but not much had been done to ‘civilize’ the area. Instead, the dogs were allowed to run around like crazy in the area. As kids, Berwald and Mathias would play with them in the heavily concealed areas. 

Back when their parents would breed dogs, the puppies would get socialized the best way possible; Mathias would let his friends come over and they would become some of the most extroverted animals anyone would ever meet. 

But now, their parents focused more on rescuing canines rather than breeding. Which was fine, but sometimes, Berwald wished that he could get one of the small, black-and-white puppies for himself. They had some of the most entertaining attitudes of any dogs he’d ever met, and one of his favorites, Espen, was still alive today. Sometimes, Berwald’s father would take him in the car around town and reward the ten-year old puppy with a treat from the butcher’s. 

Berwald steps out of the car, walking up to the porch (which his father had yet to repair from the tragic time when a very drunk Mathias got into a fight with his ex and ended up taking a sledgehammer to one of the pieces as a teen) and knocks on the door. A small mutt yelps at the door, followed by a pack of howls in response to the potential intruder. 

Berwald, even though not one for smiles, couldn’t help but smirk at the noise. There was no way his parents could ever have anyone break into their house. 

“Berwald, honey!” His mother, a Swedish woman, opens up the door while somehow keeping one of the bigger hounds from escaping. She wraps her arms around her son before attempting to press a kiss on his chest. Unless she wanted to grab a chair, there was no way she could ever reach his cheek. “We have a very special guest tonight, didn’t you hear?”

Berwald nods, allowing himself to be ushered into the kitchen. 

His father, a Dane tried and true, is at the wooden kitchen table (a project he worked on with his son) with a pitcher of alcohol in hand and a wide smile on his face. “Hello, Berwald.”

Berwald nods in response, and his eyes dart to the other person in the room. 

A blond boy in a purple sweater is sitting across from Berwald’s father, with a glass of vodka in front of him. He had a bit of meat on his bones, Berwald noted, and did he have  _ purple  _ eyes? His face is round, joyful, and he looked like the type of kid who would remind the teacher about homework they had last night. 

“Berwald, this is Tino. Tino Väinämöinen,” Mrs. Oxenstierna introduces with an almost proud tone in her voice. Berwald glances at her and her smiling, warm expression scares him a little, holding his breath as he wonders  _ why  _ this guy is seemingly so special. 

“Tino is an omega, Berwald. And he’s going to be your mate.”


	2. Trying

Mrs. Oxenstierna’s eyes dart between the two boys, and her fingers rise to cover her own lips. Deep purple eyes search for a reaction out of the icy blue ones, but her son’s only reaction is to scowl at this new threat to his depressingly bachelor lifestyle he carved out for himself.

The middle-age woman clears her throat. “Berwald, honey, I want you to be happy…” Starting off like that only earned her her very own scowl from her son. “And things didn’t work out for Tino and his mate, so his father talked to us about you and we thought that it was only time for you to settle down, Berwald.”

Berwald snorts and rolls his eyes. Was this a joke?

“Berwald, please, honey. You’re not getting any younger, and we don’t want you to feel left out when Mathias settles down with one of the omegas he’s been around.” 

Of course. It always had to come back to  _ him.  _ Mathias. Mathias, the one who, despite all those times he did drugs in their parents’ basement with his friends, despite dropping out of university, despite mating all these different omegas that he couldn’t remember the names of, and despite almost getting one of said omegas  _ pregnant,  _ was still doing better than Berwald. Life just wasn’t fair when his brother was so imperfect but strolled on in life as if he was flawless in every aspect of life. 

Tino clears his throat for the very first time, in an attempt to break the tension between the two Oxenstiernas. “Mr. Berwald, your family told me that you’re the assistant manager of that Spanish restaurant in town.” He politely smiles, taking a sip of his alcohol. “I like that place very much.”   
Berwald squints at the boy and feels his body tense up. Despite being there almost every night, he swore he never saw this kid in his life. What was he, eighteen? Boys his age were not a customer base they were interested in. Okay, yeah, maybe they didn’t have a customer base in mind, but some guy with a Finnish accent was not one of their target demographics! Especially one who wanted to use him as a rebound!   
“I just don’t want you to be the weird uncle to Mathias’s children,” Mrs. Oxenstierna says under her breath, pressing her hand up against her son’s back tenderly. Berwald quickly steps away from the touch. 

“Ah don’t want ta get  _ married _ ,” Berwald spits out in anger, making almost everyone in the room yelp, even the dogs. He storms out of the room, stomping his feet along as hot, furious tears fills his eyes.

Mrs. Oxenstierna glances over at Tino, who is glancing down at the ground miserably. She purses her lips, and kneels down to lift up his chin. “Honey, he’ll warm up to the idea. I’ll talk to him about this, okay?” Tino nods reluctantly and Mrs. Oxenstierna removes her touch from him, rushing out of the room.

Her son has his hand on the front door’s handle, trying to battle the dogs so he can leave immediately. She presses herself up against the door, glaring at her son.

“Tino is a great kid, Berwald. I don’t want you to lose him.”

Berwald wonders in the back of his mind how he could possibly lose someone he never wanted in the first place. 

“Ah like my life, just the way ‘t ‘s,” Berwald notices a hand on his arm, but does not feel the warmth his mother’s comforting touch usually brings. Today, it is cold and demanding. 

“Give him a chance, okay?” Mrs. Oxenstierna watches her son like a hawk, tugging on his sleeve. “I swear, he is a nice boy. He can be just as quiet as you sometimes, and he’s thoughtful, too.”

Berwald opens up his mouth to ask why it didn’t work out with that other mate, why they thought it would be okay to set  _ him  _ up with this ‘special’ kid, why on Earth they didn’t ask him first, or even why they wanted to surprise him like this. Berwald hated surprises. Especially if they were some person he was expected to marry. 

“Berwald, please,” Mrs. Oxenstierna whines, standing on the tips of her toes to peer into her son’s eyes. He tilts his head back, defeated. He lets out a long sigh, and then feels himself being escorted back into the kitchen. 

The boy is leaning down to scratch one of the dog’s ears, murmuring to it while tears fall down his cheek softly. The second he hears the footsteps to the kitchen, though, he abruptly stops giving affection to the dog and sits back up on his chair. He wipes away his tears, and puts on a polite grin. 

“Alright, Berwald. Tino. How about we set up a date for you two to meet up together?”


	3. Never Tried It

“You know, Berwald is a wonderful artist. Of all different mediums,” Mrs. Oxenstierna mentions slyly as she lifts her cup of tea up to her lips. She sneaks a sip and places the cup down a bit too harshly to get her son’s attention back to its rightful place. 

Berwald’s head swings back from the preview of the outside world (the kitchen window, the exact window Mathias was caught sneaking out of when he was about thirteen) and he glares at his mother. 

It had been a week, but there was just something so humiliating about his own mother playing matchmaker for him that he couldn’t even look at her the same way again. 

“Berwald,” Mrs. Oxenstierna begins, “You should show Tino some of your artwork.”

“Ah don’t have any,” Berwald states flatly before glancing down at his phone, secretly hoping that Antonio would ask him to come in to work early. Unfortunately, that only happened when Berwald was trying to take a nap, or do anything remotely fun to him.

Tino glances down at the table, sighing, but Mrs. Oxenstierna comforts him with a squeeze from her bony, cold hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you some of it. He made his bed back when he was in school. I bet that he could do much better this time. Tino, what do you like to do for fun?”

Tino scratches his chin. “I like horror films. And baking. And saunas,” He takes a deep breath, and, glancing over at Berwald, says softly, “But not at the same time.”

Berwald does not even care enough to snort at the remark. In fact, he turns his head back around to look out the window at the snow. Tino lowers his shoulders in defeat, and sighs. There’s no way  _ snow  _ could be that interesting, damn it!

“Ah need ta smoke,” Berwald stands up from his chair, and leaves the room quickly. Tino’s head tilts forward; his hair hiding the quickly forming tears in his eyes. 

Mrs. Oxenstierna, however, lights up at her son’s exit. “Tino, this is great.”

Tino scoffs at the remark. Nothing about trying to impress a Swede who won’t even participate in a conversation with him seemed  _ great.  _ Nothing about a conversation where it felt like talking to a brick wall was  _ great.  _ In fact, that seemed like the exact opposite of  _ great.  _ It is  _ painful _ . 

“Tino, honey, you have to go out there.”

Tino glances up at the woman with a hopeless look in his eyes. The woman reaches over, touching his face softly. “He’ll open up when he starts smoking, okay? Trust me. Get out there.” She pulls out the chair for him, and escorts him out of the house within seconds, nearly shoving him out the door and locking it behind him.

*

Tino barely even sees Berwald at first; it was like the man set out to find the exact shade of red his parents’ house was for this specific occasion. The flickering of the lighter, though, is what catches Tino’s attention and makes his heart start beating like an approached hare’s. He doesn’t bother to get too close to the man, but he makes sure that Berwald is watching him when he presses his hand up against his stomach and opens his mouth to say, “Don’t you know that smoking is bad for babies?”

Berwald nearly drops his cigarette in shock at such a ridiculous statement. Sure, he understood what Tino was implying, but did that make it any less ridiculous? Tino is not (at least from what Berwald knew) pregnant. Obviously, neither was Berwald. That was biologically impossible. Alphas weren’t supposed to have the babies. They were supposed to do whatever the hell they wanted, which included smoking and not being harassed by their own mother! 

“Ah don’t see any babies here,” Berwald points out, waving the cigarette around in his hand dramatically before placing it back in his mouth. 

“Yeah but… I want to have babies,” Tino says quietly, kicking himself in the feet. “I love babies. They’re so wonderful.”   
Berwald, puffing out some smoke, nods. “That’s what omegas are supposed to love.” 

Truthfully, he liked the idea of children as well. There was something kind of exciting about a boring, domesticated life with a bunch of kids running around. His parents had that, and they turned out pretty happy. 

“Yeah, I know, but I think it’s really exciting. Like, back in school, I used to read pregnancy books and show my friends. But all of them thought it was kind of terrifying. Not me. I think that it’s all really cool, bringing something new into the world and molding them into a decent human being,” Tino cracks a grin, “i don’t know why it’s so scary for them. I always thought it’s kind of dumb to fight it. That’s literally what we’re made to do. We’re made to get married, mate, and then have lots of babies.” 

Berwald bites back a question that would never be able to come off as remotely nice or even appropriate, no matter how much he worked on the wording in his mind. Instead, he let the boy continue. 

“I always heard it was a part of nature, so the laws reflect nature. You know, this whole marriage thing. Us omegas always need someone, so we are supposed to get married and then mate. Because if we mate and then marry, we might get left. So the laws are supposed to protect us. But now, people want to do it the opposite way to how it’s supposed to work, and I kind of understand it… I don’t know, everyone makes it out to be lots of fun. But I think the more fun part would be having the babies.”

Berwald nods, finishing off the cigarette. “Ah don’t know.” 

Tino glances up, breaking off his long-winded discussion he had with himself as soon as he was reminded other people could input in it. The ends of his lips curl upwards. 

“Ah don’t know, never done it.” Berwald says again, and Tino’s eyes widen. “My mother had ta set me up with some random omega, after all.” He stops leaning on the building, and starts to walk back to the door. Tino scurries back with him with his head down.   


End file.
